Snow
by Melodictales
Summary: Is it too hard to seek a little warmth in the haunting cold?
Snow in the winter was cold.

It had to snow that day. From the hill, the dazzling cityscape of Mitakihara was coated in a blanket of white. A sheet of white covered what was intended to be a flowerbed, which in spring displaced the white snow with an array of colours in their lively bloom. People would visit; sing praises to the elegant flowers wavering in the spring breeze. Yet, in the winter, this place simply remained forgotten, just like the three nameless souls that rest here, quietly.

Snowflakes lazily drift past the lamp post, which warmly illuminated the top of the hill. Two silhouettes stood side by side, huddled closely together against the cold of the night.

"Homura-chan, thanks for coming here with me." I said, looking up with a forced, watery smile that just seemed so artificial in contrast to tears I'm holding back.

Homura paused for a moment, "They are my comrades too," she shrugs, with the same stoic expression as if frozen on her face. "Despite the troubles they posed."

"I miss them." I could only choke out thus far. Overwhelming emotions welled up inside me, threatened to break me down.

Why does the world have to be so unfair?

Why does it have to be us?

Couldn't we have just lead normal lives, be friends, be alive?

These frightful thoughts haunted my mind ever since that dreadful day. Its surprising that I haven't fell into despair yet, and I have Homura to thank for that.

"They died for a good cause." Homura exhaled deeply, her breath fogged up in the cold.

In contrast, I drew breath sharply to stop my tears, which were probably on their verge of falling.

Homura had warned us about that dreadful witch. The power to destroy entire cities. We, as magical girls, had to defend Mitakihara. In the end, we won, but for terrible costs. Mami, Kyouko and Sayaka fought valiantly, and yet they all fell victim to the witch.

A gloved hand, light as the snowflake itself, landed on my shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, bringing me back to reality. Slowly, I gathered bits of my composure, and took out my duffle bag, and knelt.

Gently, I laid the boutique of flowers on the snow. Peonies of the sunset gold, coupled with the passionate red roses and the tulips with the piercing hue of blue, such as the sea; their splendid colours blushing against the white backdrop.

This blistering cold would serve well to keep the flowers fresh, and yet with time, they will still wilt. Gone, and when spring comes the wild flowerbed will rise once more, these flowers which had once dappled the hill would be unremembered.

Such is the woe of us magical girls, stuck in a perpetual cycle of hope and despair. Protecting the ones whom we loved, and yet forgotten amidst the flow of time.

Despite the widespread damage done to the city, rebuilding efforts are swift and efficient. A mere four years, and Mitakihara shines once more. Citizens soon got over their grief, and kept up to the fast pace of city life again. Humans are a resilient bunch, just like the wildflowers of spring. A lost of three flowers in a field simply seemed insignificant.

Yet, why does it have to be us.

Bitter tears touched down upon the petals, melting away the powder coat of snow, blemishing their sorrowful appearance. Trying to deny the obvious answer doesn't help. Despair is the only outcome of our wishes.

"How foolish."

Barely above a whisper, or a whimper, or a silent plea for help, which case I don't know any longer. That's all I can expel. All my resentment, anguish and bitterness contained within two words of self loathing.

Such a cruel world. Such a cruel fate.

A pair of slender arms wrapped itself around me, gently drawing me into its warmth. Faint trail of lavender trickled into my senses as Homura nuzzled against my neck. Her luscious hair draped over my shoulders as she held me from behind, embracing me with her warmth.

I broke down.

Homura is so kind towards me.

I do not deserve it.

I am weak, unlike her.

I am useless, unlike her.

I failed my friends, and all I can do is cry.

So useless.

I'm so sorry.

They say that snow has mystifying ability to swallow sound. For reasons both lucid and unknown, I cried again that night, an annual ritual to mourn their passing for their memories embedded within me. Yet, it seemed so silent, with Homura unable to muster a word. My wails carried off by the piercing cold wind, drifted off with the snow.

* * *

It was heart wrenching.

Even her cry was a melody, abide like a melancholic violinist dragging too long across the c string, as if he lost his will.

Madoka is frail, like the flowers. One can only hope to admire their beauty with constant care and groom.

She is ever so slightly broken upon the event. She tries too hard to keep up her warm appearance to others, floating in with the norm. Though, she is exposed and naked under my vigilant gaze, her misery and suffering. After all, I have know her for far too long.

Far too long indeed.

I am determined not to lose her. After all, how many times have I tried even to achieve this facade of happiness.

I'll be her watchful knight.

After what seemed like eternity, her wails turned to sobs, accompanied by cute little hiccups in between.

She fidgeted in my arms, and turned around to face me. Her eyes damp and slightly swollen from the tears, and her cheeks hung with a rosy blush. Her quivering lips finally gathered strength to move themselves

"Thank you, Homu-"

Her eyes widened slightly in mid sentence, her mouth agape.

"Homura-chan, are you crying?"

Eh? I had been so preoccupied with my thoughts, that it seems I did not notice the tears seeping out of me. This is preposterous. I vowed and tried not to show any weakness again. She wouldn't like that. I'm her knight after all.

"It's nothing." I quickly tried to rub away the tears with my eyes.

Madoka gently grasp my hands and replaced it with her own, dabbing my checks with the short of her sleeve. Her touch was lighter than a feather, and was ever so delicate.

She laid down her hands, still holding my wrists. A genuine smile formed on her soft features.

"You miss them too, don't you, Homura-chan."

"...Yes."

A lie, I would have said five years ago, or throughout the course of twenty years of repetition I had to undergo to achieve this. Somewhere beneath my apathetic self, the weak fourteen year old me still exists. A normal girl. I had to bury her, and yet every so often she emerges from the depths of my heart. I would like to think that Madoka's radiance melts away my shell of ice, allow her to escape occasionally. The girl whom remains pure and innocent, before taking on the world. The girl that still thinks Mami as her compassionate mentor, Kyouko as her loving companion, and Sayaka as her irreplaceable friend. That girl, and she missed her friends still. Alas, it seems I would be lying if I said no.

I removed my gloves and pocketed them. Madoka deftly slid her fingers between mine, and grasped it firmly.

"Shall we go?"

She looked up at the sky, with its powdered flakes landing on her downy rose hair, and heaved a sign to the heavens. Turning around, she looked at me with her sleepy eyes, and nodded slowly with a hint of a smile on her lips.

I smiled back. With my free hand, I reached out to her hair and brushed off the white stains. She kept her eyes shut through my ministrations, and as she opened them, her pink pupils dilated with glistering tears made my heart heave once more. It reminded me how fragile this illusion of bliss with her can be.

I am her knight.

I will protect her.

With a gentle tug of my preoccupied hand, we strolled back on the path to the starry city in the snow, leaving behind a boutique of flowers of three different hues.

* * *

Snowflakes moseyed and swirled down, against the warm light provided by a single lamp post. They floated upon shades of red, blue and gold, discolouring them with speckles of white. Their fate remains clear, to be buried beneath a sheet of white in the unforgiving, yet haunting beautiful weather. Unremembered, other than two silhouettes walking side by side, with their hands entwined.

Snow in the winter was cold, so bitter cold.


End file.
